Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
DYLAN
JUSTIN PETROV’S FACE is fucking irritating. How Sierra managed to skate with him for four years blows my mind, but at least now she gets to look at me all day. I said that to her after our short program earlier, and she just rolled her eyes and told me to wear a bag over my head.
Justin must not notice the way I practically sneered at him earlier, because when he sees me in the bathroom, he says, “Good luck out there.”
“Don’t need it,” I reply.
His face changes so quickly, it’s amusing. “I’m guessing she told you her sob story?”
There’s so much I’d rather do than respond. Like bash his fucking face in.
“Are you really going to pretend like you’re the good guy? You drop her and run, then try to make it seem like you’re not a piece of shit. You’re a fucking coward, Petrov.”
“I didn’t run. I made a choice. A smart one. Unlike you, I know how to protect my career. She hit the ground; I wasn’t going to follow her.”
Fuck, what I’d do to land one hit. That side of me itches to break free, but I know I can’t. I’d never ruin Sierra’s chances here.
I step right up to him, towering over him by a few inches. “The next time you even look at my girl, you’re going to find out exactly how much it hurts to hit the ground.”
He blinks, eyes wide with fear. Good.
With that I head back out, seeing Sierra pacing again. I smile.
When I came back with snacks from the kitchen last night, she asked if I’ve watched Tangled.
When I said no, she was adamant it was a crime for us to dance in our costumes while I had no clue what the movie was about.
So, for an entire hour and forty minutes, I was hooked.
It wasn’t until the credits rolled and I nearly shed a tear that I looked down to see Sierra, fast asleep with her head on my shoulder.
I don’t know how long I looked at her, but eventually, I fell asleep too.
This morning, she was already in the shower when I woke up, and I had to sneak back to my room before Lidia saw me. Neither of us brought it up.
And now Sierra replays our short program on Lidia’s phone for the third time.
M?neskin’s “I Wanna Be Your Slave” plays on a loop.
Sierra’s in a black and crimson dress with a lace-up back, and I’m in a black button-up.
It’s the technical part of our program, the two minutes and forty seconds where we have to hit all the required lifts, jumps, and spirals to rack up the points with the judges.
Short programs are all about setting the level of difficulty, while free skates let us get creative to tell a story.
Irritated, I snatch the phone from her grasp. When she tries to reach for it, I notice the darkened smiley face on her hand. She retraced it.
“I was just checking if we’re coordinated,” she says.
“We are. You don’t need a video to tell you that.”
“Fine,” she says, playing with the gems on her dress.
“Look at me,” I urge. “You know what we have that these people don’t? Each other. They might have years of experience, but you and I, Sierra, we have natural chemistry. It pours out of us—enough to make Lidia uncomfortable. So, we’re going to show them exactly that. Got it?”
Just as she nods, our names are called. But before we go, Sierra stops me. She takes my hand and places it over her heart, then takes hers and places it on mine. “Ready?” she says.
I smile. “Ready.”
It’s four minutes and thirty seconds of pure focus and strength.
This performance is point heavy. That means performing a throw triple Lutz where I toss Sierra in the air to spin three times, followed by a side-by-side axel, and a death spiral where she’s low, almost flat on the ice in an arc position.
Finally, a modified lasso per Lidia’s orders.
She still wants us to practice the real one, the one where Sierra fell, a million more times. Sierra wasn’t happy about that, but I agreed.
At the last jump we’re both smiling wide going into a sit spin, and we close out our sequence back-to-back, and when we face each other again, she’s nearly bursting. There’s a split second where I almost kiss her, but I hold her tight against me to stop myself.
As we impatiently wait for the scores in the kiss-and-cry, Sierra’s beaming. It’s the first time she’s done that without even having the scores in front of her.
ROMANOVA & DONOVAN shoots through the list, with the highest cumulative score.
“Holy shit,” we say in unison.
“I FEEL LIKE I’m high,” Sierra says, then glances at me. “Sorry.”
I roll my eyes.
She giggles, and I realize I’ve never seen this version of her before.
She’s damn near floating. We’re headed back up to our rooms. Since it’s dark, we’re staying the night and heading out in the morning because I have an early hockey practice.
I know I’ll be fucking exhausted and barely make it through Kilner’s drills, but it doesn’t matter. I’d never miss this.
We get off the elevator, but Lidia stays back. “I’ve got something to do. You two rest.”
“You think she’s getting laid?” I ask when the elevator doors close.
“Definitely.”
“Maybe she’ll go easy on us now.”
Sierra turns to walk down the hall. “Sixteen years with her and not once has she gone easy on me. But she did make me Ponchiki—Russian doughnuts—after a competition once.”
Sierra’s room is first, so we slow as we get to her door. The memory of us falling asleep together echoes. Memories of when she lay flat on her back and let me feel every inch of her body come crashing into me like a wave.
I clear my throat. “We did good today, Romanova.”
“We did.” Sierra smiles as we reach her door. “You wanna come in? We can watch something like yesterday,” she offers. “I’m hopped up on adrenaline, and I kind of hate being alone in hotel rooms.”
I nod and slip into her room. Because she asked me to.
I close the door, and when I turn, Sierra’s standing so close, she jumps in surprise, bumping into her suitcase. It tips over, spilling its contents across the floor. She gasps, and I’m about to ask her if she’s okay, but then I see it.
There’s a vibrator on the floor, buzzing softly. I bite back a laugh as I step closer, my hands landing on her shoulders. Sierra’s gone red all the way to her hairline.
“I’m the last person you need to be embarrassed in front of,” I manage to say.
“It’s not mine,” she blurts.
“You steal other people’s vibrators?”
She sighs. “I mean, technically it’s mine, but I didn’t use it last night. Scarlett bought it for me since I never …”
Last night? Sierra was going to fuck herself on the other side of the wall if I hadn’t knocked on her door. I don’t know whether to be happy about that or irritated. Then it hits me that she’d told me she hasn’t been able to masturbate, not since her accident. Who was she going to use it with?
“I can go,” I say, turning to the door.
“No,” she says, grabbing my wrist. “I’m not going to do that. It’s stupid. I can’t get there by myself anyway.”
“It’s not stupid. You should be able to love your body and express that in every way that you can. There’s nothing shameful about it.”
We’re close, too close. Talking about her fucking vibrator. This is torture.
“I almost made myself come once,” she whispers. “After the first time we skated together.”
She’s touched herself thinking about me? Back when she was much more eager to cut me with her skate blade? Fuck, that’s hot. The information feels entirely too much to handle.
I swallow. “Yeah?”
She nods, making no move to back away.
“Then show me.”
“What?”
“Spread your legs, lie on your back, and fuck yourself while I watch.”
Her mouth opens, then closes before she finally says, “Y-you want to watch me?”
I want to taste you. “You said you wanted to feel good, didn’t you? Don’t think you can do it?”
“I can do it,” she says, almost like she’s defying me.
I walk her backward until her ass hits the bed. “Strip.”
Her eyes widen and she scoots up on the bed, quickly pulling off her clothes. She looks at herself, and that’s when her usual confidence withers.
I tip her chin up. “Show me.” I hand her the vibrator, but instead she drops her head in her hands.
“I can’t.” Sierra peeks up at me, her green eyes barely visible. “I’m a grown woman and you’re teaching me how to masturbate. It’s pathetic.”
“Hey.” I sit on the bed. “We’re partners, remember? And you did so well the other night.”
She glows pink. “Why can’t you just …” She waves at my hands and crotch.
Fucking hell. If I wasn’t thinking, I’d strip and have her underneath me in seconds. But even though I’ve thought of that night every night for the past few days, this is for her.
“Because this is all you.” I cup her face. “Get out of your head, baby.”
“I don’t know how to do that anymore.”
I smile. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
She takes the vibrator, flicks it on, and it whirs to life. Her eyes widen, then I see it, the same look she gets when she nails a difficult jump. Like she’s thrilled to be conquering something.
“Can you take your shirt off?” she asks.
I pull it over my head and wait for whatever else she wants. “Sweats?” I ask. She nods, and I drop my sweats, tossing them aside. “Good?”
Then, as if she’s afraid she’ll lose whatever’s driving her, she scrambles to lie back.
I bite my knuckle, staying still, almost regretting not letting her just use me instead of the damn vibrator. She lets one hand travel up her shirt to touch her nipples, while the other moves the happily whirring device down, down, down until I can’t fucking breathe.
“Oh my God,” she gasps, arching her back. It’s a sight I burn onto my brain. Fucking engrave it there for eternity. I want to see this before I die.
She looks at me again, holding the vibrator over her clit. “I want to see you,” she says. “But only if you want me to,” she adds quickly.
Her words hit me harder than I expected.
I’ve masturbated in front of women before, but none who were trying to pleasure themselves for the first time.
It feels intimate, vulnerable, yet even in the heat of her own impending orgasm, she wants to see me—if I want to show her.
It intensifies the sensation in my chest. I want to give her whatever she needs from me.
She could take, take, take, and I’d give, give, give like a fucking madman.
“You want us to come together, Sierra? Just from watching each other?”
She moans so loud, if Lidia were in the next room, she’d hear it.
I pull my cock out of my boxers, stroking it, giving in to it all, everything I’ve imagined. Her toes curl and her lips part, eyes glued to my hand.
“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” I say.
“How you feel inside me.”
Fucking hell this girl is going to be the death of me. “Spread your thighs wider, Sierra. Show me how much you need this.”
When she does, I almost come right there. But I grip the base of my dick to slow myself down. I need to see Sierra come first, so I try to think of anything but the girl moaning my name as she touches her dripping pussy to the sight of me. When her knees fall together again, I can’t take it.
I hold her legs open as I kneel between them, watching her shake uncontrollably. “Dylan. I can’t,” she cries out.
“I know, baby,” I whisper, pumping my cock. “You’re doing so good.”
“Touch me,” she whispers. “Please.”
I didn’t plan on it, but I’m not an idiot.
A woman tells you to do something in a voice like that, you do it.
I slide my hands up her inner thighs to her tits, cupping each one in my hands, running my thumbs over her nipples, and watch the patchwork of red on her body.
Those are the only marks I want her thinking about.
Where I’ve touched and teased her, leaving reminders she’ll see for days. Until I get to give her new ones.
“You don’t have to say please, Sierra,” I say, taking her nipple into my mouth. “Not when you’re with me.”
“I’m coming,” she breathes. I pull back and stroke myself just as her face contorts. She moans before I see her pleasure crest then implode all at once, just as mine does.
The whirring stops, and she goes limp, staring up at the ceiling. “What the hell is that thing?”
“That good?” I ask, pulling up my boxers.
She barely nods, then drags me to her lips. Her skin is hot, and each breath she takes makes her chest brush against mine. “I’ve never done that before.” She moves to sit up. “Why haven’t I done that before? I feel like I’m floating.”
“You just needed me all along,” I say.
“That had nothing to do with you. It was all me.” She sounds so fucking cocky, I love it.
I kiss her again, unable to resist. “You’re right. It was all you.”
I go to the bathroom to clean up and bring a wet towel for her. Her legs still shake as I clean the insides of her thighs. I discard the towel, and when I come back, she’s already got her shorts on. I pull up my sweats and notice that she’s avoiding eye contact.
That dark hole in my chest gets bigger. She wants me to leave.
“Dylan,” she starts, but I can’t hear it. I don’t think I’d survive. I agreed to do this with her, to teach her how to make herself feel good. That doesn’t mean I’d take advantage of that just to soothe my own aches. I won’t overstep. This is just sex, and I’m good at that.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, going over to kiss her forehead. “Night, Sierra.”